


Pair Skating Fails

by renindustria



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Daddy Otabek Altin, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 00:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11611785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renindustria/pseuds/renindustria
Summary: Yuri wants to perform a pair skate that will blow Bald and Piggy out of the water. It will be cool and not lame and embarrassing like theirs was.





	Pair Skating Fails

**Author's Note:**

> I tried not to use too much technical language. I actually had chance to quiz some former national champions at the rink but they turned out to be absolute dickheads who made my friend cry!? So I've just made up stuff up basically. I will probably write a sequel to this as I still have a lot of ideas. I don't like pair skating but I do like seducing teenagers at ice rinks so I have real world knowledge, lets say. They say you should write what you know.

Lets set the scene shall we? 

Barcelona, the day after the exhibition skate. Many competitors are still hanging around enjoying the weather. Yuri has texted Otabek the night before with instructions to meet him at the rink as early as possible. 

\----------------

When Yuri arrives, breathless and tense, Otabek is already on the ice. It’s supposed to be a public session but they seem to be the only ones around, skating or otherwise. Yuri had been peeking his head around each corner he approached, taking his time creeping through the enormous complex housing the rink. He feared crowds of young girls searching for skaters after the GPF. But the streets were quiet and the rink was sepulchral. A radio was playing quietly somewhere. He considers asking to plug his phone into the sound system before deciding that another awkward conversation in spanish wasn’t worth it. 

Yuri just stands for a moment gripping the strap of his skate bag and feeling more and more nervous. He’s not entirely sure what he’s nervous about exactly. He decides it's the early hour, the tinkling fuzz of a blurry love song playing on the decrepit radio. The chill from the aircon finally creeps in under his hoodie, propelling him into motion. He moves from the doors and drops his bag on one of the long wooden benches. Next to Otabek’s bag, which is plain and tattered and seems to have nothing in it but a cloth and some skate guards. 

He watches Otabek spiral. Although not especially impressive in presentation, his limbs exude strength. There is an inevitability to each movement, lines curving without effort and skates following a predetermined path, intricate and invisible on the ice. He changes direction suddenly, winding up for a jump.Yuri watches and is reminded of dominoes falling quickly one one at a time. A push, an outside edge, a toepick, a jump and a landing, then falling back into place, retracing an exact path around the rink. Each individual moment as precisely timed as a watch ticking. Maybe not as mechanical, maybe more like a steady heartbeat. 

Yuri jumps at the sound of a door slamming behind him. A grizzled looking older man steps out from the rink store cupboard and greets Yuri with a short wave. 

‘Need boots?’ He says through a thick accent. 

No Yuri grits his teeth and turns back to ice. Having forgotten briefly where he was and what he was supposed to be doing, his twists his hands into his sleeves and decides to just warm up as quickly as possible. He jogs around the rink, watching Otabek, waiting to catch his eye. But the other man's stopped to speak to the old man. Yuri rounds the last corner looking determinedly straight ahead, mumbling to his muscles to loosen up a little, just in case his calves have decided to become capable of independent thought. 

He arrives back where he started. He’s awkwardly standing outside of the ring of conversation between Otabek and the grizzled man. He wants to say hello but joining in feels too impossible and irritating so he just heads to the benches and starts doing off ice jumps, stretches and push ups. Urgently trying to raise his heart rate and push down the stupid anxiety that was simmering away in his chest. He’s sitting, feet together, forcing his knees towards the floor when he hears the thud of steel on rubber and looks up to see his new friend, and rinkmate. 

‘Good Morning’ Otabek says in Russian, voice slightly gravelly. 

‘Humph. Morning.’ Yurio parrots back trying desperately not to sound to eager or too moody or too anything. 

Otabek sits heavily on the bench beside him, arms folded and skates kicked out in front of him, knees wide. Yuri notes the stubble and grey sweats. The very picture of masculinity. It doesnt make him feel any less anxious. Plus, Otabek is good at skating. He is very very good at skating. He begins to regret his plan. Every single part of the plan from its inception to its eventual…

’No Yuri’ he stops himself mid thought. ‘The plan is solid gold. Everything about the plan is perfect and genius and it's going the blow that pig and that old man out of the water.’ Yuri steels his nerves. 

‘You want me to show you how to pair skate?’

Yuri inhales slowly and… ‘Victor and that piggy are skating together. They have a routine.’

‘You want to skate with someone too?’

‘No. Yes! I want to beat them. Victor shouldn't even has skated. Plus it was me that won gold.’

Yuri runs out of reasons so he just stares determinedly at Otabek, trying to convey his vengeful feelings through telepathy. Like all friends are capable of. 

‘It’s not easy. It takes time to learn. You have to develop upper body strength.’

‘Why?’

‘So you can lift -’

‘You are lifting me though.’

‘You want...’

‘We are skating together. As a team.’ Yuri tags on the word to team in the hope of making the whole thing sound more competitive and less...couple like.

‘Like Victor and..’

‘No not like them because they are disgusting and lame and we are going to be cool.’

Otabek huffs and looks upwards. Yuri swallows, watching the other man's folded arms and the way his shirt is being pulled tight against his chest. 

‘You want to skate with me.’ It’s more of a statement that a question. Yuri snaps his eyes back onto the other man’s face. 

‘Yes.’ 

Otabek raises his eyebrows slightly and shifts forwards to rest his elbows on his knees. 

‘I want you to throw me into quads.’

Otabek considers Yuri carefully. The younger man is still sitting on the floor, gripping his feet and staring up at the Otabek with a fiery look of determination.Yuri notes at this point that he is wearing a rather childish cat sweater that he picked out from a women's clothing store in japan. He sort of wishes he’d picked his black Vivienne Westwood instead but... 

‘How much do you weigh.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Hmmm. Doesn’t matter. Stand up’

Yuri scrambles to his feet, hands clenched into fists.

‘Go up on the bench.’

Yuri scrambles again. He’s much taller than otabek now.

‘Put your hands on my shoulders’

‘Da.’ 

Yuri obeys, carefully gripping the warm muscles, afraid to use any real pressure. Otabek’s hands grip his waist and he’s suddenly lifted up, horizontal, and in real danger of hitting the ceiling. For a moment he’s suspended in the air, perfectly balanced and looking down towards the floor and Otabek’s back. He tries for a breath and collapses slightly, but his feet are back on the bench before he can lose balance. 

‘That’s fine. You are light.’

Yuri wonders at Otabek for a moment before looking away and jerking his hands back from his shoulders. 

‘I...I’ll put my skates on.’ 

Otabek turns towards the staff member who has, apparently, been watching them the whole time. 

‘Sal. Switch the music please.’

‘We have music?’

Yuri feels stupid immediately after opening his mouth.

‘My phone, yes.’

‘Good, this spanish stuff is creeping me out.’

Otabek wanders off and Yuri stands on the bench, watching the gritty rubber floor sway and blur. Knees still feeling stiff, he jumps down and shuffles over to his skates. Everything he does feels a little fumbled and weird , like he’s getting ready for a competition but he’s forgotten his costume and routine. He’s pulling on his skates when an eerie whine echos around the arena followed by the soft tish of cymbals and finally the devastating chords of heavy distortion. A strangled voice joins in the with the cacophony. Deftones, Yuri realises. It’s abruptly cut off and the ethereal, melancholic melody of a M83 song begins, only to be cut off again in favor of the opening track of A Rush of Blood to the Head. Yuri pulls a face.

He ties his skates quickly as he can and pulls on his gloves. Not bothering with guards, he stomps over on the the ice and steps out without so much as looking down or putting a hand on the barrier. He spins 360 looks for otabek, who is still fiddling on with with his playlist.

‘I liked the first song.’

Yuri skates alongside Otabek who’s walking back from the music cupboard. When the plexi glass ends he speaks again.

‘Why Coldplay?’

Yuri blocks Otabek’s path onto the ice, hand on either side of the entrance. 

‘You’ve never done this Yuri?’ Otabek tilts his head a fraction to the side. 

Yuri chokes a little ‘No.’ He tries to keep the hesitation from his voice. 

‘We need a steady 4/4 beat, nothing too fast.’ He stands a little more upright and Yuri can’t help but examine his stubble, his dark eyes and the faint lines running across his forehead. ‘It is actually possible they are only three years apart?’ Yuri questions silently. 

‘Ugh.’ He spins around and skates off, immediately regretting his teenage outburst. With an underlying current of animosity toward his own stupid feelings and insufficiency he grinds each edge into the ice with ferocity, rapidly working through each field move that comes into his head. He flings himself into spins, rotating faster than would seem humanly possible. He lets himself spin wildly until the momentum eventually runs out he drifts backwards in a short loop. Head now feeling emptier, the sound of soft guitar slowly flows back in. He smoothes his wild hair back from his face, pleased with the sweat sliding down his brow and back. Confidence somewhat renewed, he back moves over towards Otabek, who doesn't seem to have moved from his spot by the entrance. Yuri pulls off his hoodie and hurls it past Otabek onto the benches. 

‘You skate like a man possessed Yuri.’ 

‘Thanks.’ 

‘In competition you're so...refined.’

‘I have to be. I have my coaches breathing down my neck.’

‘You prefer your trickshots.’

‘I’d rather be intimidating than delicate looking.’

Otabek considers this for a moment. 

‘I think you are very intimidating Yuri. But maybe not for the reasons you think.’

‘Huh.’ Yuri forces himself to remain neutral, but he begins to fidget, digging his toe picks and heels into the ice. 

‘Mmmmm, it takes a lot of strength to let yourself be vulnerable.’ Otabek chooses his words carefully. 

Yuri stops his noodling and looks back over his shoulder. Having gained his attention, Otabek extends his hand, palm up, and waits. Yuri feels like he has reached peak weirdness, but he pushes past it and gingerly places his palm over the other man's. In an instant Otabek’s hand locks around his and their skating forward. God Put a Smile Upon Your Face starts playing and Yuri feels like it a little too loud. For the first time in a long time He's having trouble switching feet and he's thinking very hard about not falling on the ice. 

‘Just try and match my rhythm. One two three four.’ Yuri focuses on the music, counting the rhythm quietly. After a minute they have picked up speed. Yuri drops his shoulders and represses the insistent voice that's telling him to snatch his hand away and skate away

‘Switch to backwards skating.’

Yuri waits for the correct beat then twizzles around, smoothly retaking Otabek’s hand. For the first time that morning Otabek smiles. Yuri sees too much potential in the small upturn of his mouth so he looks past him then down at their feet where their skates are surprising close. The song ends and, not sure of what to do, Yuri lifts his friends hand over his head and turns a full rotation before digging a toepick in and ending in a kind of curtsy. Embarrassed, Yuri pulls his hand back and crosses his arms. Otabek lets out a short laugh then mirrors Yuri, crossing his arms. 

‘You can do it no problem. Just don't think too much about it. I’m leading so just follow me. Copy my movements but don't lag behind them, stick to the music. And if you miss a step don't worry, just continue.’

Yuri nods and forces himself to look Otabek in the eyes for a moment.

‘When do we get to the jumps.’

‘First, we must practice the simple things. Field moves. We will use the whole ice.’

Otabek moves over to center ice and rattles off a series of maneuvers for them to practice. 

‘Stay as close to me as you can.’ 

Yuri eventually stops worrying about stray feet and clashing of blades and falls into deep concentration. He compensates for Otabek’s extra power and learns to predict where he’s going to be. In unison they skate huge figure eights, dual loops are carved into the ice and the thunk and scrape of steel blades blends with the boom and tish of the drums.Yuri decides that just skating side by side feels exhilarating. It’s thrilling, moving perfectly in time with someone, knowing what they’re doing without even having to see them, trusting them to be exactly where you need them to be.

Yuri doesn’t notice when the music runs out. Otabek just comes to a stop and offers his hand. Yuri takes it with only the smallest of hesitation. He lets himself be led back over to the entrance at the barrier. Otabek gently drops his hand and Yuri just stands waiting, feeling like a girl being taken to prom. He’s a little blissed out from the ultra cool looking dual backwards crossovers into toe loops so he just lets the awkwardness evaporate slowly and watches Otabek take a long drink of his cheap store brand spring water. 

‘Want to try lifts.’

‘Yes.’ Yuri answers a little too quickly, almost cutting off the other man.

Otabek wanders back to the music cupboard. 

‘Can you play something cool - ‘

‘The lead gets to pick the music.’

Yuri watches disappear into the cupboard and re-emerge to a what he’s sure is a Taylor Swift song. 

‘What’s this?’ Yuri hisses. 

‘It’s on shuffle.’ Otabek shrugs.‘Can you skate despite this.’ Otabek is deadpan.

‘Yes.’ Yuri is hissing again. He can, of course, but as they skate to center ice he thinks he catches the words ‘Romeo’ and ‘Juliet’ through the twinkling guitar chords and he shivers a little in disgust. 

‘We will just stick to simple things for now. Lifts are dangerous. So are dual spirals.’ He catches the small look of panic in Yuri’s eye. ‘But...I think we can advance quickly’ He adds. 

Yuri stands swiveling his skates, hands twisting into his shirt sleeves. Self consciously he pulls on the back of his shirt. 

‘Come forwards.’

Yuri takes his outstretched palm palm but pauses, ‘Where is everyone?’ 

‘Lessons were 05:30 to 9:00. And it’s a Tuesday.’

Yuri still searches the stands. ‘Sal has gone for his breakfast. I told him we would be okay. Whats wrong?’

‘Nothing! I’m adjusting! To the idea!’

‘You don’t trust me.’ Otabek delivers the line in such a casual way that Yuri feels it’s borderline bullying. He makes up his mind to simply follow instruction and deliver flawlessly. Doing that has never failed him before. He slides forwards slightly, trying to look as nonchalant about it as possible. 

‘What are we doing then?’ Yuri questions professionally, head tilted up to gaze resolutely at the older man. He’s close enough now to smell his aftershave, and thank god, it doesn’t seem to be one of those nasty cheap ones. His shirt is pretty nice also, fits well. At least the -

‘Ah!’ Yuri chokes a little as he’s swiftly pulled forward, an arm around his waist pulling him closer until they are snuggly chest to chest. Yuri flushes when he realises they are practically touching from chin to toe. 

‘Put your free hand on my shoulder, like a waltz.’ Trapped and with basically no other option than to obey his rather forward new skating partner he does as he’s told. Yuri has to remind himself that he’s doing this because it’s going to be a amazing and he’s going to blow the old man out of the water and - oh god, Otabek’s managed to pull his hips even closer and Yuri’s pretty sure this level of contact isn’t even legal in skating. 

‘You’re too stiff.’

‘Huh?’ 

‘You need to be fluid and flexible. Plus your hand is trembling.’ Yuri tries to snatch his hand back from Otabek but it’s like trying to move a steel pole. 

‘I’m cold!’

‘Hmmm. You don’t feel cold. Lets warm up with our practice then ya?’ Yuri is sure there's a hint of a smile on Otabek’s face, but he tears his eyes away once he realises he’s been staring. 

‘What do you want me to do.’ Yuri tries his best to relax but he can’t really feel his skates on the ice and he’s not certain he’s even upright.

‘Backbend. I’ll hold your waist and hand. Keep one skate on the ice.’ 

Yuri moves slowly, bending at the waist until his hand has to leave Otabek’s shoulder. He brings it carefully past his head then follows it with his eyes till he’s looking at the rink as if upsidedown. He stops because he can feel his weight pushing against Otabek and he’s convinced his skate is going to slip off the ice and send him falling backwards. 

‘You can go deeper can’t you?’ Otabek questions.

Yuri brings his head up slightly to watch the other man’s face. 

‘I won’t let you won’t fall backwards.’ 

Of course he can go deeper, Yuri thinks to himself. He can put the back of his head on the dammed ice if he wanted to. He lets himself curve backwards then forces it further, until he’s looking down fully at the ice. If he strains he can see the back of his heel. Running out of breath, he pulls himself back up gracefully until he can plant both blades firmly. Otabek helps him slightly, pulling on his hand. It’s only when Otabek loosens his arm slightly that he realises how steady his hold on him was. 

‘You didn’t move at all.’ Yuri replaces his hand onto Otabek’s shoulder comforted by the feeling of sturdiness. 

‘Nope.’

‘Again?’ 

‘I’ll dip you. Just focus on keeping a long line.’ 

They practice dips and static poses until Yuri begins to get a headache from all the backbends. He pulls himself back up for the last time and throws his forehead into Otabek’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut to fight off the star's blooming in his vision. Not really thinking, he drags his brow across the soft material, soothing his sweaty, itchy skin. Cautiously, Otabek brings Yuri’s hand to his waist and leaves it there so he can wrap both arms around him. For a few seconds Yuri doesn’t realise what he’s doing. He’s pulled back to reality by the high pitch intro of yet another stupid pop song.

‘Sorry.’ He mumbles and pushes Otabek away.

‘I didn’t mean to ahh, I’m thirsty so…’ Yuri skates away and Otabek lets his arms fall to his sides. Yuri, blushing deeply, barely makes it to the barrier without collapsing in a mortified heap. He somehow manages to reach his skate bag and tears it open to find only a notebook his wallet and his phone. No water bottle, no change, no euros. He groans and remember that, with Victor in a room with the piggy, he has no one to rob water and snacks from, and there's no way he’s gonna use the 5 euro bottle of water from his own room.

‘Here.’ Otabek offers him a full bottle of the cheap looking spring water. 

‘Thank’s’ Yuri mumbles. He takes a sip.

‘Why does it taste funny?’ he asks in between gulps. 

‘I refilled it in the bathroom.’

Yuri spits out a huge mouthful and turns to Otabek in horror. 

‘Why would you give me that!?’ 

‘Why?’ 

Yuri chokes and it’s a while before he’s capable of speech. Otabek looks genuinely curious. 

‘Because!’ 

Squinting slightly Otabek reaches to take the bottle back. Yuri resists, putting the bottle behind his back. 

‘Why are you drinking water from the bathroom.’ 

Otabek sighs and rubs his eyes. 

‘Unlike the Russian team, I am not sponsored by the government or hundreds of private companies. So I go to the grocery store. And I buy regular water. And I refill the bottle. With more regular water.’ 

‘Oh.’

Yuri sags his shoulders a little and offers Otabek his water back. He takes a drink and looks slightly crushed. 

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘But you’ve won medals recently right?’

Otabek nods and finishes the bottle. Yuri watches his throat. Roughly, Otabek wipes his mouth with the the back of his hand and Yuri watches the muscles move in his jaw. Yuri notes the stark contrast between their arms. Yuri lets his eyes wander downwards over the other man’s prominent pectorals and the outline of a six pack. The fabric of his dark grey sweats is stretched over his thighs as he straddles the bench. 

When Yuri flicks his eyes back up Otabek’s watching him through dark eyelashes. He tilts his head but stays silent. Yuri opens his mouth to speak but his brain refuses to produce anything coherent enough to speak aloud. 

‘Problem?’

‘Yes there is a problem,’ Yuri thinks, ‘there is a very big problem because I think I’m enjoying being crushed against you and my brain is desperately trying to rewire itself to deal with the sudden torrent of very new and very unexpected information. And my brain has already been recently rewired and reinstalled and upgraded after the whole Victor coaching thing and the Piggy thing and on top of that I can feel my skates getting smaller every time I put them on and…’

‘No.’ No problem really, Yuri thinks, ‘only... when I look at Victor and the piggy I feel sick but I also feel a little sick looking at you right now, Otabek so I’m not entirely sure what that's supposed to mean so I’m just gonna wait for the brain upgrade to finish installing and then I might be able to ya know, think clearly.’

‘You’re waiting for an upgrade?’

Dear God, Yuri thinks, I might have actually said some of that outloud. 

‘Your Russian is too fast for me Yuri.’ 

‘Oh.’ Yuri tries to look a little disappointed, but he’s pretty sure the look on his face just says relief. 

‘Your cheeks are red.’ 

‘I’m just too hot.’ Yuri pouts and pulls off his gloves.

‘Ready to go again?’ Yuri actually considers this question before answering. 

‘Do you dislike it?’

‘Dislike what?’ Yuri is genuinely puzzled and searches the other man’s face.

‘Skating with me.’

Yuri’s eyebrows shoot up. He panics, an unsettled feeling rising in his gut. Otabek looks down at the bench, so Yuri can’t check his features. 

‘No! I mean it’s good! Skating with you…’ Yuri shuffles forwards and gingerly touches the other man's shoulder. 

‘You’re a better skater than me and errr… you’re a much better teacher than Victor. Definitely.’

Otabek moves to rest his chin on his hand and looks up at Yuri who’s kind of hovering awkwardly. 

‘You are very lucky to be taught by Nikiforov.’

‘Errr… he can’t really explain anything. He just shows you it and tells you to do exactly the same. And he says that, if you do it properly it’s really easy, but sometimes I don’t think he even knows what ‘properly’ is. I think he just makes stuff up as he goes along.’

‘You are ready to compete against him?’

Yuri balks at this, not knowing what to answer with. He grips his knee and watches Otabek’s eyes as he stares at the scratched and dented wood of the bench

‘Nevermind Yuri. Don’t answer that.’ 

Otabek reaches out and grasps his pinky. Yuri lifts his hand, unsure of what to do. 

‘You have more determination in this finger that most people will encounter in their entire lives.’

Yuri blushes and resists jerking his hand back. Who even says things like that. Actually, he has heard people talk that that. People he’d rather not think about right now.

‘That’s…’ Yuri’s brain have have slowly dripped out of his ears over the course of the morning because he can’t summon any thoughts other than ‘I don't know what to say’ and ‘that feels nice.’ Otabek’s gently pressing the pad of his pinky with his thumb. 

‘Ready to go again?’

Otabek finally looks up and Yuri nods. Yuri gratefully takes the offered hand. Somehow his legs have become gelatinous blobs in the last five minutes so it’s a big help. This time as Yuri hits the ice he’s swung around and pulled backwards against Otabek. Both his arms are trapped against his chest. He thinks he can feel the other man’s heartbeat on his back. He doesn't bother twisting to look back at the other man. He can feel breath on his neck

‘Let’s try some spins.’ Yuri inhales sharply as a low voice speaks next to his ear. He’s released and a hand leads him out, away from the barrier. Yuri gets the odd feeling that he could fall through the ice if he lets go of Otabek’s hand. On center ice he feels exposed, like sharks are circling just below the surface. His skates feel heavy. Very consciously, he sticks close to Otabek, carefully following each step. 

‘Skate backwards, I’ll swing you round then let you go. Camel spin.’ 

‘Kay.’ 

Hesitantly, Yuri picks up speed. He’s prepared for when Otabek releases his hand, but he underestimates the force at which he would spin out. He panics and loses his edge, falling heavily on his elbow but otherwise sliding harmlessly across the ice. He’s almost at the other end of the rink before he comes to a stop. He doesn’t bother sitting up. He lays flat on his back and lets the relief and pain flow over him. He can hear Otabek approaching at moderate speed. He waits till he sees Otabek standing over him.

‘You’re not getting up.’

‘No.’ Yuri sighs heavily. A particularly bad stab of pain courses through his elbow and he cries out, then bursts into a fit of laughter. The pain is nagging and almost enough to knock him sick but he can tell there's no real damage done. The laughing eventually subsides to a giggle. 

‘Ow fuck.’ Yuri grabs his elbow, riding out the last of the stabs of pain with tears welling in his eyes. When he sees Otabek’s single raised eyebrow he bursts into another fit of giggles.

‘Ow.’ Yuri takes some deep breaths and hiccups slightly. The ice isn’t wet, but Yuri can feel the cold seeping in where his body touches the surface. Otabek crouches and examines Yuri’s face for a moment, then relents and sits on the ice next to him, kneeling with skates shoved to the side. 

‘Let me see your arm.’

Yuri lifts his arm limply and turns his head to the side, squinting at the bright sunlight flooding in from the high windows. His breath hitches as he feels Otabek push up his sleeve to examine his elbow. With a little difficulty the tight fabric is eventually bunched on his upper arm. He winces as Otabek runs a finger over the bone. 

‘It’s going to bruise beautifully.’ He comments, ignoring Yuri’s winching. 

‘Mmm. Great.’ Yuri swings his face back to Otabek, who’s still holding his arm in the most delicate, careful way, as if it were made of crystal. Yuri freezes as Otabek presses his lips to his injured elbow. A ‘get better’ kiss? Yuri suppresses panic. He is unsure of how to fix his face when Otabek shoots a pointed look at him and starts tugging his sleeve back down. 

‘You will live.’ Otabek states plainly. Yuri looks away, back toward the bright windows, cheeks burning.

‘I might not.’ The endorphins are kicking in. Mild euphoria hits. 

Otabek leans over him slightly trying to catch his eye. He braces a hand the other side of Yuri. 

‘You feel you might die?’ Otabek lets only a little bit of humor into his voice. Like a true performer, he mostly keeps a serious, melancholic tone. 

‘I might loose my arm. ’ He turns to look at Otabek. ‘At best.’ he adds. Yuri can see the edges of Otabek’s mouth trying to tug upwards. Yuri watches his skating partner, transfixed with the subtle changes to his expression. Otabek leans down closer and cups Yuri's cheek, gently sweeping the pad of his thumb over his damp lower lashes. It’s so gentle and beautiful that Yuri feels like a pile of goo slowly spreading over the ice.

Yuri watches Otabek’s lips as he moves closer, their noses almost touching. Yuri can feel warm breath on his cheeks. He lets his eyes slip closed. Unconsciously he inhales, tilts his head back and parts his lips. But nothing happens and snaps his eyes back open. Otabek’s eyes are staring into his, pinning him in place. He’s smiling slightly. Annoyed, Yuri drags his hands up the hold the other man’s face. There’s a seconds hesitation before he’s spurred on by Otabek glancing ever so quickly at his mouth. 

He’s kisses him best he can then quickly pulls away. He feels triumphant but it’s nothing compared to when Otabek kisses him back. It’s slow and warm and steady and Yuri feels a thrill move through him like a shock of electricity. A hand reaches into his hair holding the back of his neck, holding him in place on the ice. A feeling of relief fills Yuri as if he’s just completed a perfect program. In the space between kisses Yuri catches his breath and winds his fingers into Otabek’s shirt, clinging on as if he would otherwise fall off the earth. Eventually he matches Otabek kiss for kiss until he grows frustrated, wanting to press onwards to something but he’s not sure what. Yuri lasts a minute like this before he’s scrambling up, throwing both arms around Otabek’s neck and crawling into his lap. Otabek has to tug him back by his hair. 

‘What?’ Yurio huffs, annoyed at the intrusion. 

‘We should at least get off the ice.’

Otabek stands quickly and pulls Yurio to the barrier, steps off onto the rubber matting, turns, sweeps Yuri off his skates and carries him into the changing room, kicking the door open with his boot. Low key thrilled, Yuri holds firmly onto his neck and tucks in his feet so they don’t hit the door frame. Once he’s set down and the door has swung closed, Yuri stretches up on his toepicks, pulling Otabek’s face down to his. Shamelessly he presses Otabek against the wall with his hips and switches to unpracticed, open mouth kisses.

Having never done this before, Yuri just goes with his gut on everything. He’s pretty sure he’s doing well because Otabek’s flushed and pulling him in, sliding hands down his back and through his hair. Yuri’s calves start to burn with the effort. 

‘Pick me up’ He demands, once he finds a gap between the kisses. 

Slowly, Otabek reaches down and drags a hand down the back of Yuri’s thigh and hooks under his knee, wrapping Yuris leg around his waist. Yuri throws his arms around Otabek’s shoulders and hops up so he’s clinging to him like a limpet. He’s adjusts his position then stares down at Otabek, looking triumphant. 

‘Happy now?’ Otabek’s lips are pink and wet and his usual cool expression is being betrayed by a cocky raised eyebrow and glowing cheeks. Instead of answering, Yuri flips his hair out of the way and looks down at his skating partner with all the seduction he can muster. Otabek laughs and Yuri is both annoyed and delighted by the outburst. 

Yuri licks his lips and swallows hard. He closes in for a kiss but decides better of it and noses his way down Otabek’s jawline and neck, inhaling the warm sweet cologne. He is secretly impressed with the scratchy stubble. Otabek’s scent and the feel of his under cut is doing terrible things to Yuri. He concludes that doing this, with Otabek, in this small warm changing room, feels dangerous and reassuring at the same time. He opens his mouth against Otabek’s neck. The other man inhales suddenly. Yuris world is reduced down to the feeling of skin on skin and seeping warmth of another person. He can hear the distant rhythm of pop song leaking through the walls. Under his tongue Otabek’s pulse strong and steady. Unthinking, he licks and bites his way back up to his mouth, and as he rises he tilts his hips and presses closer to the other man, revelling in the sweet pressure. Yuri’s taken by surprise when the other man moans slightly. Otabek’s eyes are closed, heat rolling off his skin. 

Yuri sweeps a hand across the other man's brow, fascinated, and leans in close enough to kiss. Instead, he bites gently on his lower lip and tugs. When he releases Otabek pulls him down into a slow kiss. Yuri finds it agonisingly tender and soft so he rakes a hand through Otabek’ short hair and tug. He wraps his legs even tighter and grinds against the other man. A voice somewhere tells his that he’s acting a little desperate and lewd, but another moan from Otabek spurs him onwards. Growing frustrated, he pulls away and hops down into his feet again. Otabek keeps a grip on his hand, possessively. 

Otabek tilts his head slightly, eyes heavy and Yuri drinks in the sight of his wide shoulders and wet mouth. 

‘Sit.’ Yuri demands, pulling the heavier man forwards and shoving him towards a bench in the middle of the room. Otabek sighs and does as he’s told. Yuri quickly straddles him and resumes kissing. This time however, Yuri has his hands free. His delicate fingers grip Otabek’s arms and squeeze. Yuri can feel thick muscles tensing under his touch. Yuri feels something stir in a dark primal place of his mind. A wildness creeps in, growing in ferocity until Yuri wants to consume the man beneath him. 

Yuris hands drag down Otabek’ chest. He breaks from a kiss to dip down and bite at his neck. Yuri pushes up his shirt and smoothes his hands over the warm flesh. Yuri is struck by how wide and muscled his torso is. Unlike his own, each rib is wrapped in corded muscle. A light trail of hair leads down from his navel to his sweats. Otabek watches him with a wary look but Yuri doesn't bother to notice. His thumbs are tracing the deeply cut v line of Otabek's hips. He twitches as Yuri drags his tongue along each hip bone. Otabek's skin is salty but Yuri is struck by just how good he smells despite the sweat and stale air. 

Yuri shuffles down a bit to smooth his palms over Otabek's hips, fingers slipping into his waistband and tugging slightly to reveal more sensitive flesh. He licks a line up to his navel and...

Otabek winds a hand into Yuris hair and pulls him back gently. 

‘Do you realise what you’re doing?’ He's slightly breathless and looking rather undone but his tone is serious. 

‘Why?’ Yuri moves his hand further down the other man's hip but it's covered and brought to a stop. 

‘We can't go further Yuri.’ Yuri’s face twists with shock. 

‘Why?’ A sense of betrayal creeps in and Yuri fights to keep his cool demeanour. 

‘You are so beautiful Yuratchka’ Otabek brings the back of Yuri’s hand to his lips. Yuri’s eyes are wide, tears gathering at the edges. He freezes, heart pounding. 

‘You deserve the world.’ Otabek kisses his hand again then hovers his mouth over the transparent skin of his wrist. 

‘I want to do this properly.’ Otabek sits up, holding Yuri on his lap. He releases Yuri’s hands and they drop to his front where their bodies meet. Yuri stares down at his curled fingers, feeling ashamed as if he's done something wrong. A tear falls and splashes against his palm. 

‘Don't cry Yuri. I just want you to be treated special. You should not be in a changing room.’ Otabek curls a finger under Yuri's chin and Yuri resists for a moment before looking up. His friends eyes are full of tenderness and affection. Yuri wants to say something but he can feel his bottom lip about to tremble. Otabek sighs and places his hands around Yuri's narrow hips. 

‘Do you still like me?’ Yuri tries not to let his voice shake. 

‘Yuri, I would have had you on the ice.’ 

Yuri's eyebrows shoot up and Otabek’s hands grip tighter. 

‘I've waited so long to do this.’ He kisses, long and slow. He snakes a hand to Yuri's lower back. Fingers just dipping into his waistband. He kisses down Yuri’s neck then bites into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt. Yuri shivers and digs his nails into Otabek’s sides. 

‘One more minute okay?’ Otabek seems to be talking more to himself than Yuri.

Yuri considers bargaining to get another few minutes out of him. He kinda wants to test Otabek's amazing self control but he decides to be mature about things. He's uncomfortable on this hard bench in a room with no air anyway.

‘The hotel…?’ Yuri suggests, imagining Otabek sprawled out over white sheets, tshirt and sweatpants ready to tear off. 

‘Maybe.’ Otabek tries his best to sound firm. 

Yuri snorts in amusement. He stands and steps off Otabek and swings through the door leaving him straddling the bench. 

‘Let's get food.’ Yuri shouts, stomping back over to their bags. Two women have arrived at the rink and they watch him from the ice. Yuri ignores them. Their eyes go wide when Otabek exits the changing room a few seconds later. He sits down heavily next to Yuri and begins unfastening his skates. He leans into Yuri to pull off his boot. 

‘Go away. You're sweaty Bekya.’ 

Otabek shoots him a pained glance, leaning in even closer. 

‘You stink.’ Yuri's states with a smile. 

‘You have teeth marks on your neck Yuri.’

‘What?!’ He barks, slapping a hand over his neck. 

Otabek stands and shrugs his bag over his shoulders. Yuri glares up at him with genuine concern. Otabek shrugs then kneels down and finishes off Yuri's skates. He grabs one off Otabek once it's been dried and looks at his neck with the side of his blade. 

‘I can't see anything.’ He says accusingly. Otabek pulls the skate from his hand and zips it away. Slinging both their bags over their shoulders. He ruffles a hand through Yuri's hair. 

‘Don't!’ Yuri shouts. He tries to smooth it back down.

‘It's a mess.’ Otabek states coolly. 

‘That's your fault!’ Yuri snarls back jumping up from the bench and adjusting his heels in his sneakers.

‘Mmmm.’ Replies Otabek, smiling very slightly. 

Yuri looks for his bag and realises Otabek has it. He opens his mouth to protest but decides there's really no reason. 

‘Come on.’ Otabek moves to the exit and Yuri trudges after him. 

‘Want my hand?’ 

Yuri almost reaches out but stops himself.

‘No!’ He half shouts.


End file.
